


Wednesdays

by stockings_and_stuffies



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Animal Death, Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21846394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stockings_and_stuffies/pseuds/stockings_and_stuffies
Summary: A small vent about one day in the middle of the week.





	Wednesdays

**Author's Note:**

> Im just feeling it big tonight boys. Tonight is not my night at all. Please do not read if you are triggered by animal death, suicide, or self harm. I needed to vent and i got it all out, so if you read to the end, the very end, it gets happier, but do know the few paragraphs before the very end are really sad and could possibly be triggering

Wednesdays were once regular days to you. The bump in the road to the rest of your week. A break in the days when Mondays had been bleak, and Tuesdays had been slow, and Wednesday was a little better, before Thursday swooped in to slow it down before Friday had come to excite you for the weekend to come. Wednesday was dull and gray and was never a day you put much thought in.

It's a Wednesday night when your dad walks through the front door with a tiny black kitten in his arms. He holds her up and tells you his buddy was looking to get rid of a few kittens so your dad had thought to get one for you. So you hold her close and you smile wide because you've wanted a cat for so long and you never thought you'd get one. Then after being shot down for a handful of silly names, you name her Wednesday.

And suddenly Wednesdays become the color blue of her litter box and the black of her fur and bright and shiny like her eyes under the lights of your room, and Wednesdays sound like soft rumbles and purrs and hisses of a tiny baby, and Wednesdays smell like cat food and a ball of fur, and they start to feel like the warmth of a hug and kisses on clouds and soft foreheads and a heaviness in your heart that feels like love, so you start to think a little more about Wednesdays.

On an ordinary Wednesday, a friend from color guard asks you to come to church with her. You're not religious, even though you grew up in your family church and have gone to many churches after, but she's nice and you like hanging out with her so you say yes. You take a 30 minute drive in her nice red car, that you once jumped out the open back of after color guard practice so the other girls could have more room, into the driveway of a nice pentacostal church full of nice people who welcomed you with open arms with snacks and drinks and wonderful smiles. You sat in the pews next to her as they sang loud powerful songs and they all stood up together. Many people who needed prayer had gone up to the alter to kneel down and they all layed hands on them and prayed for better days. They sang a song that you didn't know, but suddenly you're overcome with emotion and you sob in your seat, and they all come to you with loving hands and soft smiles and sing and pray for you. So you return many times after.

And Wednesdays are full of hope again. Wednesdays feel like peace and warmth and the chill of playing kickball together and soft red cushions on church pews. Wednesdays are the orange and pink of a sunset on the drive to a house of forgiveness and worship and the dark blue with bright white stars in the evening drive back home. It smells like lemonade and cookies and soft dirt in the driveway. Wednesday sounds like a song that touches your heart and soul and makes you cry every time you hear it. Wednesdays become a day you look forward to.

You've been mutuals with a girl named Jessica for a few years. She sends you messages when you're sad and always checks in when you've been absent. You like how happy she is and how no matter what she was always one of the first people to like your posts. You hadn't gotten to know each other well, but you appreciated her presence and you know she appreciated yours.

It was a Wednesday night you think she died. You had just gotten home from church and you sat to tell your mom about your day for a while. You hadn't checked your phone in hours. You take a shower then lay in bed when you check your phone. Jessica had tagged you in a post which makes you happy until you read it. It was posted maybe a couple hours before you clicked on it. And you cried and you wanted to scream and call her up but you didn't know her full name or her number. You messaged her for hours nonstop and you didn't sleep that night. You messaged her every day, hoping for a response that never came. You were the only one tagged in her post, so a few of her mutuals had messaged you to ask if you heard anything. You never did and neither did they, so you silently mourned together. You stopped going to church. And years down the road you stopped messaging her. You feel guilty because you had forgotten about her.

So then Wednesdays look dull and gray again, and they feel cold and unforgiving, and they taste salty of tears and guilt. Wednesdays never smelled so rotten and full of grief and like cold dirt of a freshly dug grave. Wednesdays sit heavy in your heart and on your shoulders and they rip your tears out of your tired eyes like your blade rips your blood from your wrists. Wednesday beats down on your mind like an axe splits the wood and the fog of your memory screams and shouts at different times of the year, of the day, of the hour, to ring in your ears and remind you of things you thought you've long forgotten, so you sit in the quiet of night to stop to think about the days you once loved that have been taken by grief and mourning of the death of a girl you barely knew. Your tears mingle in the ocean of emotions you wish you could stay afloat in until you drown in sorrow and pain and guilt, guilt, guilt.

Wednesdays became heartbreak to wake up to, knowing the girl who wrote her suicide note to you will never see another Wednesday. And you feel shame and bitterness to your own self when you realized that you never got to know the girl whose last cry for help was out to you. While you sat on the couch with your mom, recalling the day of fun and joy you had and took your time to look at her last words. You think if you hadn't wasted time you could have saved her. You feel it again. Wednesdays and guilt, guilt, guilt.

Its been almost 4 years since Jessica passed. And you again feel like Wednesdays are boring and dull and none too exciting. You don't feel sick every time you wake up, but you feel bad when you remember that you forgot her again. But when you wake up on Wednesdays, you get ready and go to work and come home exhausted, but you're okay now. You don't spend every waking hour wishing to join the ones you longed to see again, you fight every day to live a better life for them. To live the best you can because you know that's what they would do if they were still here.

So Wednesdays are boring but sometimes they can be exciting. Some Wednesdays can be gray and dull and foggy, but others can be blue and shiny or an orange-y pink sunset. Wednesday can taste sweet like hot chocolate on cozy movie nights but also bitter and biting cold like a frozen lake full of emotions. Wednesdays can feel like warm hugs from a distant friend you've never met and soft foreheads that you kiss goodnight and sometimes like the red pews in a nice place that makes you feel surrounded by love. They don't feel so guilty and harsh or like you're wading through gallons of bile that once spilled from a broken heart. Because you're a little better now. Wednesdays smell like freshly planted flowers for girls you once knew that still hold dear parts of your heart and like candies you once shared with all the people you've loved and like all the sweetest dreams you've ever had.

And as you lay in bed on a Wednesday morning, you don't think too much or too loud. Sometimes you barely think about it at all. Cause Wednesdays are like any other day. You just gotta wake up and experience it for yourself.

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished writing this and now i feel a lot better, just know it does get better, even if sometimes your Wednesdays feel like the end of the world, it doesn't have to be. Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this if you did


End file.
